


To Live Deliberately

by apoptoses



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Porn with Feelings, Post-Fall (Hannibal), hannigram in the woods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 07:07:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10552120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apoptoses/pseuds/apoptoses
Summary: The cabin is only a temporary home. A place to convalesce, Hannibal had said. But as March frosts give way to sunny May afternoons, Will finds it harder and harder to tear himself away.For centuries man has been going into the woods in search of peace. Will can feel it there, right at their fingertips. It’s strange something so intangible can feel physically just out of reach.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AVegetarianCannibal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AVegetarianCannibal/gifts).



> A follower-milestone giveaway fic for avegetariancannibal, who requested hannigram living in a cabin post-fall, living off the land, bathing in a stream and becoming wild and animalistic.
> 
> * * *
> 
>   
> _“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life . . . and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.”_  
>  -Henry David Thoreau, _Walden_  
> 

 

Will’s ax whistles through the air and the wood beneath it splits with a satisfying thud. He picks it up, tosses it onto the log pile, and sets the ax aside. A trickle of sweat runs down his spine. Will wipes his brow on his sleeve and sets off into the woods.  
  
The river is crystal clear, the stones smooth beneath Will’s feet as he wades into its banks. He shucks his clothes and leaves them in a pile on a rock before submerging himself. Beneath the water Will holds his breath until his lungs burn; memories of crashing into the Atlantic coming back in a rush.  
  
He remembers Hannibal’s arms around him, the burn of salt water in wounds, and then nothing. The time between the fall and their arrival at the cabin is a blur. The next cogent memory he has is waking up next to Hannibal, wool blanket pulled up to his chin and his sinuses throbbing.  
  
The cabin is only a temporary home. A place to convalesce, Hannibal had said. But as March frosts give way to sunny May afternoons, Will finds it harder and harder to tear himself away.  
  
For centuries man has been going into the woods in search of peace. Will can feel it there, right at their fingertips. It’s strange something so intangible can feel physically just out of reach.  
  
When he breaks through the surface of the river Hannibal is standing on a rock, watching him. Will arches a brow at him, silently questioning what he was doing there.  
  
“You said you’d come back in for lunch after finishing with the wood. When you didn’t return I got curious as to where you’d gone,” Hannibal says. “You weren’t difficult to track.”  
  
“Are you going to stand there and stare or did you plan on joining me?” Will asks.  
  
Hannibal smiles. “I was planning to join you, but became distracted. You look like one of the sirens sent to lure Odysseus into the sea with their song.”  
  
Will floats on his back and kicks a little spray of water in Hannibal’s direction. There’s a smart remark on the tip of his tongue. Hannibal moves to unzip his pants, and Will decides to keeps his thoughts to himself.  
  
Outdoors there’s no clean place to set anything, but Hannibal still folds his clothes neatly as he removes them. He looks so different from when they first met, Will thinks. Years in prison have left him with a softness around his middle, and lithe limbs where muscles once would have been. His hair has grown long enough to curl around his ears.  
  
Will rakes his eyes over Hannibal’s body as he wades in, his gaze hungry and shameless. Hannibal dips his hands into the water and uses it to slick back his hair.  
  
“When I was a boy I used to go swimming in a river much like this one,” Hannibal says. “The summers were unbearably hot but the river flowed down from the mountains and its water was always frigid. It was the only way to stay cool.”  
  
He leans back and lets the current take him, river carrying him ever closer until Will can loop an arm around his waist and hold him close. Will rests his chin in the slope of Hannibal’s shoulder and closes his eyes.  
  
“If you’d have done that in Louisiana a gator would have got you. All I had to play with as a kid was the hose,” he says. He can feel Hannibal’s laugh. “Do we have to leave here?”  
  
“What else would you have us do? Live off the land? Grow wild together with the forest?”  
  
“I’ll plant us a garden. You can grow your hair long. Become a mountain man.”  
  
Will scrapes a hand over Hannibal’s jaw, feels the stubble growing there. Hannibal turns his head and presses a kiss into his palm.  
  
Together they float in the water, feet barely brushing the bottom, and Will breathes Hannibal in. He smells warm, masculine- there’s no fancy soap out here, no layers of cologne to hide behind, and Will finds he likes that best. Hannibal smells the way he did when they fell from the cliff. If Will breathes in deeply enough he imagines he can smell the sweet tang of his blood.  
  
“What are you smelling?” Hannibal asks.  
  
“You,” Will says, then, with a grin, adds, “Difficult to avoid.”  
  
Hannibal chuckles. He cards his fingers through Will’s hair and tips his head back to press their mouths together. Will sighs into it, allowing Hannibal to tug at his hair and manipulate him as he pleases. Hannibal kisses Will like he’s something to be savored; slow, and wet, and deep. Like Hannibal intends to take him apart with his mouth alone.  
  
There hasn’t been much they’ve been able to do, not while Hannibal’s muscles are sore and slowly knitting themselves back together beneath the wound in his side. But here in the stream they’re weightless, and Will wastes no time wrapping his thighs around Hannibal’s waist. Hannibal reaches beneath the water to hold him up, fingers kneading at his ass as their cocks rub together.  
  
Will drags Hannibal’s lower lip in between his teeth. Hannibal is quiet, the only hint at his arousal his quick breaths and the pound of his heart, but when Will sinks his teeth into his lip he lets out a low, choked noise.  
  
“Should we go back to the cabin?” he asks. His voice is unsteady, and god if that doesn’t make Will harder.  
  
Will shakes his head and rolls their hips together. “No. I want you right here. Out in the open,” he murmurs between slow, filthy kisses.  
  
There’s a low, smooth rock that juts out into the water. Hannibal backs him up against it so they can get more leverage.  
  
The skin around Will’s mouth is raw from Hannibal’s stubble when he pulls away. Hannibal’s eyes are half shut, his lip swollen and red, and Will loves him this way. There’s a hint of blood welling up in the center of his lip. Will licks it away and Hannibal looks as though his life has flashed before his eyes again.  
  
Will huffs out a laugh. “God, you’re so easy.”  
  
Hannibal pinches his ass. Before Will can retort he wraps a hand around both their cocks and strokes, and whatever Will is about to say comes out as a low groan.  
  
Will rests his forehead against Hannibal’s, rocks up into his hand. His arms are loosely coiled around Hannibal’s shoulders and they stay like that, lips close but not quite kissing; sharing breathing space. Will watches the way Hannibal’s eyes squeeze shut as they grind against each other.  
  
His hand can hardly fit around the both of them, and the friction is both not enough and somehow too much. It’s a slow burn of arousal that spreads through both of them until Hannibal’s soft exhales turn into low gasps of Will’s name. Will wants to haul him out of the water and into the grass. He wants to sink his teeth into every tender spot on Hannibal’s body, but the rub of his cock and the sight of him coming undone like this is just too good.  
  
When Will spills into Hannibal’s hand he gives a choked gasp and digs his nails into Hannibal’s shoulders, his body trembling as Hannibal continues to stroke their cocks. He feels as if he’s run a marathon. His eyelids are heavy and he almost misses the way Hannibal clutches at him as he comes, eyes shut and lips parted. He looks like a saint in ecstasy.  
  
They stay there against the rock, catching their breath until the sun retreats behind a cloud. The air grows cool and Will begins to shiver.  
  
“Home?” he asks.  
  
Hannibal nods.  
  
They gather their clothes. They’re both loathe to put them on while still wet, and so they walk back into the forest naked, hand in hand; wild and at peace.  
  
  
  
  



End file.
